


Just a Soldier

by CavannaRose



Series: The Battle Against Orora [5]
Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Backstory, D&D Stories, Elves, Gen, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, It's barely touched on but it is there, Non-Graphic Rape/Non-Con, Past Rape/Non-con, Threats of Rape/Non-Con, Violence, mentions rape, wood elf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-23
Updated: 2020-01-07
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:22:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21910660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CavannaRose/pseuds/CavannaRose
Summary: The stories of the adventures of Xafra ta'Malajr. A wood elf of indeterminate gender, who lucks into accompanying their heroes on a grand adventure.
Series: The Battle Against Orora [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1321409
Kudos: 1





	1. History

**Behind the Veil…**

My people had retreated from the world. Ehlonna had granted us solace from the Rihadian nightmare and the horrors of Siri, granting our people's safety as well as a place to flourish. My family, I am ashamed to say, took the be fruitful and multiply blessing seriously. Being of little to no importance in the grand scheme of elven politics, my family cheerfully took up residence in the woods. What started as an isolated cottage blossomed into what was almost a small community of its own, albeit a community where every member was related to one another. Growing up you couldn’t hardly step outside your door without running into at least a dozen aunts, uncles and cousins, nevermind my own rather expansive list of siblings. My father Raġel and my mother Mara were… busy making babies through much of their marriage.

Nine of them, to be exact. Babies I mean. Myself and my twin, Xmara, Ponn, Għasafar, Ħsieb, Azzjoni, and the triplets, Riħ, Rires, and Rabja. Not an ounce of ambition amidst the lot. Since coming through the veil, my family had been content just to grow and live as they were. Not me. I don’t know what it was, and Xmara clearly didn’t understand, but I wanted more out of life than just stagnating amidst family. Despite the protests, and the very touching marriage proposal from a second cousin, I left the glade and moved to the City around the Eluvniad Sarrabellum.

It wasn’t real clear to me at first what the point of joining a City Guard for a City that never got visitors was, entirely, but it offered training in the military arts, which was what I was certain I was looking for. I was practicing on the training field when I heard Her voice for the first time. Clad in a padded gambeson and weilding a wooden sword, I heard the whisper of a gentle voice calling me to service. It was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. 

I wrote home to Xmara about my experience, but she didn’t seem impressed. All she wanted was to know when I would ‘finish playing soldier and come home’. For the first time in my life, I was angry. Here I was, picked by the Goddess who had saved our people from destruction, and my family still couldn’t accept that I wanted a different life than the one that they offered. I will always love them, for they are kind people, but they did not have the capacity to understand what I was becoming.

To be fair, I didn’t really understand either. For a long time my life didn’t change. The routines were the same, though I spent more time at the alters and speaking with the Clerics than I had before. I trained for my duties as a guard, I studied the duties of a Warrior of Ehlonna, I manned my given posts, and I dreamed of the heroics I might one day perform in her name. I wanted so badly to spread her light, but where? Within the barrier, we already knew of her gifts, our very existence was evidence of them. 

Then everything changed. Four outsiders crossed the barrier into our lands, a feat practically unheard of. I was lucky enough to be on duty that day, I got to see them first hand. The leader of the group was the smallest grown-up person I had ever seen, a halfling, accompanied by two humans and a half-elf. You would have thought the half-elf would do the talking, given the gravitas of the situation, but that little halfling strode forward and took charge.

She wasn’t an eloquent speaker, or even very tactful, but there was something about her conviction that really broke through the seclusionist haze we had built around ourselves as a people, or at least I felt it. That part of me that listens for the voice of Ehlonna resonated with the halfling’s words. This was not the case for all of our people though. For the first time in memory, the Council was split. There were those that refused to leave the safety of our barrier for the folks that we had left behind, then there were those that couldn’t imagine not going.

I had to look inside me, and really listen for what path Ehlonna wanted me to follow. I knew what I was hoping for, and my Goddess did not disappoint. Before the outsiders were asked back in to hear the Council’s verdict, I knew without a doubt that I would be leaving Samoria, whether my people were going or not. 

**Exodus and War...**

Finally I was going to be a real soldier. The Council had been divided, but there were enough voices in favour that a group of us would be passing through the barrier. There were so many that didn’t want us to go, they tried to dissuade us at every turn. They warned us that we would not be permitted to pass through the barrier a second time. If we went, that would be it. We would no longer be of Samoria. We would have to make our home in the outside worlds. 

This was what I had been longing for. Glory. Adventure. Travel. My heart was bursting with excitement. Or at least… It was when we first left. It didn’t take long for the grim realities of war to chip away at my dreams of glory. There was nothing glorious about the battles we fought. Fiends and undead and monsters from my darkest nightmares swarmed over the land, snuffing out the lives of elves that should have lived for centuries more. Sure it was one thing for humans and orcs to throw themselves into the fray, they don’t even have a century. Every elf on the field was sacrificing so much.

Then … the unthinkable happened. The Commander of our squad was killed. He fell right there on the field before me, I almost stepped in what remained of his head. I was shocked, our whole group was stunned. We were some of the youngest elves on the field, I think I was the oldest in the group with him gone. Someone had to take charge… and I had that divine power flowing through me, so I thought, why not me? I rallied the group around me, and we found our target. Some demon wrapped in chains, ripping through the army of orcs that we were fighting alongside.

What they needed was the skill and speed of the elves on their side, so we charged. It was… It was a massacre. My brothers and sisters at arms were slaughtered, and so were most of the orcs. In the end, the fiend fell, leaving just myself and a single orc standing over the body. The darkness that afflicted my spirit was echoed in his eyes. In that moment, we bonded in a way that surpassed racial lines. I’m not sure why, but I reached across the body and took his hand. We walked off the field together.

After that, I moved to the medical tents. We had to fight off waves of monsters trying to take out our wounded, but I wasn’t in charge of anyone but myself. I hoped that perhaps mending those that still lived would compensate for the deaths my poor leadership had caused. Gurtok came by often. Sometimes to talk, or just to share a meal. He was the first non-elf I had ever made friends with, but he was also a reminder of my greatest shame. 

Then the battle was won. Tales of the sacrifices the war had taken were many, but none included the squad I had led to their death. No one would sing songs of their bravery, but no one would know of my horrific mistake either. I didn’t know where to go, or what to do. All the friends I had made had perished beneath the blades of Orora’s horde. So I stayed there, where folks were reclaiming lost land. I served at the sides of former battle fields as they slowly became something more. 

Ehlonna’s blessings were the most helpful here. Through her divine favour, I could help fields that had laid barren for so long blossom and thrive. Day by day I did my part to heal the scar that had been burned across the land as I prayed for forgiveness. I healed where I could, but there was still a hole in my heart. Eventually Gurtok returned home to his people, but I promised to stay in touch. We write letters now, and they are a source of joy that I hardly deserve. 

But I must serve my Goddess as best I can, and she is a being of light, of love, and laughter. Somehow I must regain these traits if I am to be worthy of her light. Perhaps it is time for my penance to be over. Perhaps it is time for me to set out once more, and find that joy I had hoped for as I trained to guard Samoria. 

**Package**

A letter arrived from Gurtok, and I admit I was pleased as punch. I hadn't heard from him in a dog's age and then some, and I was excited to hear the news. Extra excitin' though was this letter came with a bulky wrapped package. Apparently the charmin' rascal had sent along a gift for me. I carefully folded up all that excitement and set it aside though. Manners said I had to open the letter first, and before I knew it came with a gift I was almost as excited for his words alone. I scanned the letter as fast as I could, eatin' up his tales of orcish life. He wrote about the lady orc with three suitors vying for her attention that went off and married the tiniest little gnomish girl he ever did see, and I laughed out loud. He just had a way with words, did Gurtok. You don't think about his folk bein' wordy an' charmin' much, but he really is. His penmanship is exquisite too.

After reaching the end of his chatty piece of delight, I finally reached for the other part of the package, filled with curiosity. There wasn't nuthin' in the letter that might suggest what was gonna be in the other part. Once I finally pulled away the leather wrapping it (perfect for repairs to my own gear, the man is always thinking) I admired what was within. Picking up the wineskin, I opened the top and gave it a sniff, eyes closing in delight. Orcish ale. I know that I'm supposed to be a classier type of person, bein' elven and one of the few representin' our race out in the wide world, but there was just somethin' about orcish ale that warmed me right down to the toes. That wonderful man, I had to send him something in return.


	2. Regret

It had been... fifty years since I had joined the City Guard, but before I heard the voice of Ehlonna calling me to service. I think. Maybe. No, definitely. It gets a little blurry, not just from the passage of time, but because the mind is careful with things like... that. Unpleasantness. I like to roll unpleasantness away and tuck it deep down inside, somewhere where it can't taint what life I can find in my life. Knowing Ehlonna helps. Without Her I couldn't have stepped past what had happened. I've spent some time out in the world, and I've heard how it views the elves behind their goddess-given veil, but if they only knew. 

Mostly life isn't that different. Most people have a place in life, duties to perform, people to take care of. The Guard had a City to patrol. We had our own petty thefts and disagreements. Just because the elves are long-lived doesn't mean they are inherently better. It's more like, the older they get, the more they become whatever it is they are. The Eldest can be truly Good or Evil, but they can also be Indecisive, Passionate, Fickle... It's like one trait somehow becomes the defining characteristic of their being. It's different for different types of elves too. My people, we're earthier than some of the others, but not so mercurial as the Eladrin. My family wouldn't call themselves peasants, but I've been further than they have now, and it's true. They tend their groves, they raise their children, they care so very little for anything more than a day's travel from where they were born. It's a blissful simplicity, and I regret not being able to engage with it. For wanting more. If I hadn't, it never would have happened.

It. Two letters, to convey such a heavy sense of foreboding. Is foreboding the right word? It's more like past-boding. A memory of darkness, hovering in the corner of my psyche. Even now, with the desire to put it down in words, it's difficult. I can't cheapen it with my tendency to flourish and flare, just plain speaking. Starkness. Get the sensations that roil in my guts out, and then let it go. Not a single person living this side of the veil knows about the atrocities that can be buried in the hearts of the darkest of the Elders. There were others, like me, young and stupid. Obedient. The ones I knew are gone now. Faceless bodies on an endless battlefield. Casualties of the War on Orora, though like me, they had hidden parts that had died long before. I was lucky, Ehlonna pieced me back together, gave me a reason to reach for the light once more.

Some of the newer guards like me were from the further edges of Samoria, separate from the Eluvniad Sarrabellum and all it's supposed culture. It was harder for us to adapt, and we kind of flocked together. Some had their family's support. Others, like me, had to face the knowledge that our loved ones just couldn't, and wouldn't, understand this need within us. Why pick up a blade, when there was an idyllic life denied so many just waiting for us? It was better, after Ehlonna. If the Lady needed me, they could at least accept, even if they still didn't quite understand. 

But first there was Him. He was old, a High Elf, aristocratic and arrogant, as some of his kind can attain with age. He wasn't much involved with the politics of the City, but his voice garnered respect. The people listened to him, turned to him when they were short on answers. He was brilliant, they said. One of the greatest wizards our people had ever spawned. He put in a request. He needed a group of guards to help him on an expedition, securing a pocket dimension he had tapped while experimenting in his arcane laboratory. My unit was sent, bright eyed and willing to do anything to break up the monotony of the endless patrolling. We had learned obedience, allegiance... and none of it would do us well where we were going.

I thought I could talk about what happened, but the pen shakes in my hand. He wanted ... well he wanted guards. That part was fine. It wasn't much different than being in the streets, except that we were fighting lesser fiends and imps and creatures like that. It was fun, at first. At least for me. Some of the others were shaken, but the fight gave me some kind of joy, I'm ashamed to admit now. I liked fighting creatures I knew were evil. My friend, Ġilju tal-Ilma, didn't react the same. She would shake, the fear sweeping over her. Some of the others grew colder towards her, treating her with disdain for her cowardice. We were close, though, both being wood elves, and I tried to coax an explanation out of her. She had stopped sharing my tent at night, but that was her decision and I respected it. We were still friends.

Then I saw her leaving His tent. Maodhileas Ahmadh Earneasal. Our employer. Even in our society, a Lord of his rank would hardly be expected to notice a lowly soldier, never mind a guard. She was beautiful, though. Her skin was like burnished mahogany and her hair was a deep dark colour, like the forest canopy just before the moon rose. She stumbled, clutching at her side, and I raced to reach her, though she had collapsed to her knees before I got there. Her sobs were so quiet, as if she was afraid to let them out. Even in the starlight I could see the blood on her side, and when I led her back to my tent the story came out. He was... using her. Passing time with her, but not for love, or friendship, or pleasure for any but himself. Each night before he began he would take his blade to her, the scent and sight of the blood somehow an integral part of the ... interaction, though that's such a sterile word. Seven stripes climbed up her side, the first almost healed, the last raw, still seeping blood. Beneath it was a terrible brand, blistering so badly that I couldn't make out the image. She clutched my fingers and sobbed, then swore me to secrecy. He was a powerful wizard, and he had threatened to eradicate her line if she told her tale. He had her blood, he could do what he threatened.

I was... Furious. I had never been so mad in my whole life, but I couldn't force her to risk her family, and I didn't want to be responsible for causing her that loss. Then another of our group faltered, and the signs were there that his abuses had found a new target. I tried, I really tried, to talk them into leaving. To convince them to walk away. They were too afraid. I pleaded with them to turn him in, to stop him from harming the next, but they wouldn't. I am ashamed by how long it took me to confront him. The third member of our troop had begun showing signs before I could take no more. That night, before his victim was supposed to come to his chambers, I arrived instead, sword in hand and determined to put an end to it.

I was a fool.

He was so powerful. Terrifyingly so. My muscles wouldn't obey my own will in his presence. His command was like a snake sliding through my veins and taking control. I tried to fight, but I couldn't, and the true terror of what my friends had gone through finally sunk in. He was... so angry. What he did to Ġilju will haunt me until I die. Not just to her, to her whole family, just like he threatened. They vanished, as if they had never existed. There had never been many of them, but there were suddenly none. It broke the will of the rest of us. When we returned from our duty, none of us said a word. Even when he was assigned a new guard unit. Even when they came back, as haunted as we were.

And me? I have my own seven stripes, my own looping brand reminding me of what I would risk if I spoke up. Reminding me that he had owned me, and he would always own a part of me. Ehlonna helped me find my courage again, but if not for her... I might never have. That is why I guard those that cannot help themselves. I know what it feels like to be without courage. I know how it feels to be trampled beneath the will of another. That was why I fought Orora. That is why I still fight. 

I still feel guilty, though. He's still there, guarded by the Veil just as surely as those more deserving. Still gathering young, hopeful guards to him for his own dark purposes. I have looked into the eyes of evil, and I will never forget the emptiness that I saw there.


	3. Campaign Journal 1-5

**1.**

  
I finally met the Heroes of Virese for the first time. Well, I already met Mister Halfax that once, but he wasn't much of a talker at the time and was kind of busy. They have this massive house in Bilare that's all decorated all pretty and such. Real impressive like. Then we had to head back through that blasted teleport circle, and let me tell you I cannot stand that thing. Turns the stomach, it does. On the other side the big ol' angel with the black wings was all irritable, and we got stopped tryin' to leave town by one of them aasimar, but I told them that this was the Heroes of Virese I was escortin', and they let us straight through.

We almost had to fight a devil made of bones, terrifyin' thing, but I asked Ehlonna to maybe send it off to pester someone else for awhile, and it scooted on out of there lickity split. I'm so grateful to Ehlonna for lettin' me be her vessel. I know I ain't worthy, but what we mortals fuss around worth and such ain't no matter to the gods.

We were on the road for a few days, and Mister Nightcrest, he wants me to call him Devlin but he's so dang important I find it hard to think of him that way, well he was awful friendly, invited me to share his tent and everythin'. I gotta tell you I was more than a little tempted, Ehlonna knows, but he's a hero an' I'm just a soldier. I ain't worthy of knockin' boots with a hero of that type. Asides, I don't know how they can stand bein' fenced in on all sides like that. I'm happy with my little lean-to.

I upset Mister Nightcrest come mornin', I think maybe he's frustrated by me, but he hugged me better after and I coulda melted faster'n butter in summer. I know that I'm a lot to handle, and these are the Heroes of Virese lettin' me travel with them, so I know I gotta be more careful.

Now we're starin' down the gullet of a beast with as many heads as we got folks to look back, so who knows how that will turn out.

**2.**

  
Mister Nightcrest is AMAZING. He took one look at that hydra and just was like ‘nope, not today’ and it went out like a lightnin’ bug. Just up and disappeared right into thin air. Miss Adara took their big ol’ sloth creature up on a flyin’ carpet an’ the two of them booked it for the far side of the swamp, all while Mister Nightcrest and Mister Halfax popped away, and then back for Lady Elayna, and then back for me. I don’t think I like that poppin’ about much. It ain’t nuthin’ like the misty step thingy that Ehlonna lets me do sometimes. Nuh-uhn, it’s way worse. Sets the tummy all a tumblin’ somethin’ fierce.

It weren’t that far after that to get to where Mister Halfax’s ancestors was buried. We almost took the extra time to go get some other help, but Mister Nightcrest was right worried about the hostages, so instead him and Mister Halfax snuck into the excavation site to get a looksee around. I guess it didn’t go so hot cuz they showed back up, all coated in acid and hurtin’ right awful. 

Well that was no nevermind, and we all gathered up our gear, after the Lady and Miss Adara dispensed with some healing for the fellas, and then we marched on into them tunnels to have at the baddies all ourselves. There weren’t much to sniff at when we first went in, but then when we got near the bottom the real trouble started showin’ up. 

It was one heckuva fight, believe you me. Watchin’ them heroes fight right there from the thick of it, well I ain’t never been so honoured to be on a battlefield, that’s for certain. I only wish I could do half the things them folks did. All I really got goin is swingin’ my li’l old sword, with an occasional boop of extra firepower from blessed Ehlonna when she feels obligin’. I kept gettin’ knocked unconscious though. I knew right from the set-out that I wasn’t as good at all this heroic stuff like the others, but damn if that battle didn’t prove it beyond a doubt. I betcha gold for copper that they’ll ask me to stay behind like Lady Elayna next time so’s I stop distractin’ them when the real work comes due.

**3.**

  
Mister Halfax gathered up some fantastical items at the end of our fight with the tomb invaders. I can’t believe the things he gave to me. Me! Just a li’l old soldier. I ain’t never had nothing so amazin’ before. I ain’t certain I deserve it. Then Mister Halfax took us through some stomach twistin’ magical means to Mister Nightcrest’s home. There was a lot of talk that I didn’t quite understand, about Thieves Guilds and someone named Dran and I just… It came off a little hinky and gave me some concerns. Miss Adara gave me some lovely bracers, though, which made me feel a mite safer.

Mister Nightcrest invited me out to hit the town and blow off some steam, and I can’t say I wasn’t flattered. He is a very handsome man, and I’ve admired the tales of him since that bard started singin’ them. He has the scars of a warrior, and the body to match. I ain’t never had that much fun knockin’ boots before, though Ehlonna knows I wouldn't never have got the chance without that weird fairy brew.. He was a titch stuffy the next mornin’ though. I think maybe he has regrets, I suppose I would be to if it was me I'd gotten hot and bothered with. That’s unfortunate though, and I hope that this doesn’t sour our buddin’ friendship. I didn’t expect a suave man of the world to be that awkward about somethin’ so unimportant. It’s just a little stress relief.

We was supposed to be headin’ to the horrific holy city for that cursed Siri figure, but then they got word that a friend of theirs was in trouble. It was good to see that even though they was heroes, they put the life of their friend above anythin’ else. We put off the church nonsense first, but that was all good to me. I wasn’t keen on helpin’ that church, but then again I ain’t one of the Heroes of Virese, so it ain’t really up to me. I’m just a soldier, along for the ride.

We headed on out to Trayyis, and that got us all up in some terrifyin’ magic house that got Miss Adara all cattywampus. It was right terrifyin’. I wasn’t quite pleased to be a-comin’ out topside on this one. Apparently it was her house now? But I warn’t convinced that it was tha best choice for her to make. It seems like calling a snake a kitten and expectin’ not to get bit.

Now? Now there’s some scarred lady talkin’ about who knows what, and we ain’t got no magic or even the ability to pull our hands apart. I swear I’m ass-deep in alligators and I ain’t sure if I remember how to swim.

**4.**

  
I ain't never been up against nobody that undermined their own position of power so hard as that burned-faced bitch. I ain't sure what them heroes did to her, but she was mighty afraid of them, all while tryin' to back them into a corner, and me along with them. I'm not sure who or what Dran thought the Heroes was, but she sure had no idea what I was. Paladin. Spell it with me folks. P. A. L. A. D. I. N. Here she was gettin' out all her best bondage gear and tryin' to bully us into an assassination, but I wasn't havin' none of it. She used some dark and nasty magic to set me on my ass, but in the end Mister Nightcrest asked me to trust him, and what else could I do? I said yes.

Well we all moseyed off with a few friends and a couple asswhistles that worked for old Gorgeous there, and that was that. I wasn't quite sure what Mister Nightcrest's plan was, but I was willing to wait and see. We got up so close to Samoria I could feel her, feel the weight of my Lady's barrier, and I almost missed bein' home. I scootched about to get a closer look, but one of the buttheads followed me around. I showed him though, and piddled right in his bedroll while he was sleepin'.

Before we got to where we was goin', I tried to take Mister Nightcrest aside and explain to him what a soldier's purpose was. That if the worst should happen he needed to be ready to leave me behind and save those what was important. I ain't never been yelled at so hard in my life. He was furious, but then he kissed me too? Honestly, I ain't sure what to make of Mister Nightcrest. First he was the untouchable hero, then the quick roll in the hay, then maybe he didn't like me. Now this? The boy gets a body's head spinnin', that's for darn sure. I have no idea what I'm gonna do with him. 

So we fight our way up through these folks, not so many as you would think, honestly, and mostly the creepy doll lady from Dran did the work, until we hit the top. The leader of the folks was there, and he had an _Eladrin_ with him. AN ELADRIN. I just... I couldn't process it right. They're closest to the Lady outta any folks that walk these planes. Well, I know my right from my wrong, and even though it pained me to do it, while Mister Nightcrest got to talkin' I up and moved, switchin' sides though goin' against the Heroes hurt me deep. I just... I couldn't stand against an Eladrin. It wouldn't be right. Mister Nightcrest done shocked me again, though. He turned 'round and stood beside me. We wasn't gonna fight the folks that Dran wanted, and one of them bein' a dragon that was a real comfort. Instead we're gonna take out these Dran flunkies, and then head all the way back to Trayyis to lay a beat down on the burned lady.

**5.**

Oh we lay a hurtin’ on that dollfaced tart real good. I ain’t certain what this fancy sword the Heroes gave me is, but it sure ripped into her pretty little face real good. Miss Adara asked for a hug, and then there was some talk about bein’ one of ‘em and such… It’s amazin’ how clean ya can make a spot on tha floor where a creepy doll lady got ended.

Mister Nightcrest told me some fantastic stories about his life, and I gotta say, it was hard not to get all soft inside about him. I have to remember what that’s led to in the past. Better to leave it how it is. Now we’re stuck in that freaky house of Miss Adara’s, and all the ale makes ya belch acid like a weirdo.


	4. Confusion

Somewhere along the way, Xafra had heard the phrase 'don't meet your heroes', the implication being that they wouldn't never live up to the expectations. As far as they were concerned, whomever came up with that particular turn of phrase was dumber than a swarm of rot grubs. Thanks to their job offering to aid Lady Eloyna, Xafra had not only gotten to meet the Heroes of Virese, but to travel with them too. Just thinking about it had their eyes flickering across the campsite, seeking out the elder Nightcrest sibling. Sure, Kiernan the bard hadn't said many encouraging things about Devlin Nightcrest in his epic ballad, but Xafra had read between the lines. It was easy to pick out the jealous reaction in the mocking ode.

Devlin had been, was, so much more than the rumours about him. Bolder than anyone they'd ever met, the man had brass fucking balls, cheerfully flirting in the face of death as he attempted to protect his sister and her beloved. It didn't matter that Ayre and Adara were both terrifyingly competent in their own particular talents, he still did his best to put himself between them in danger. Not only that, but he partied hardier than any soldier troupe they'd been with in their long life. Used to the quiet camaraderie of the elven soldiers, and in more recent years the raucous joy of the orcs, Devlin had been... _an experience_. The strange fey bar, the burn of the alcohol... Xafra would never have dared kiss him without all the other factors, but the night had already been so weird. Then when he kissed them back... Gave them shivers even now, thinking about it.

What happened after... well, they might be neither a lady nor a gentleman, but they still would keep those details to themself. The passion, the surprising tenderness, the tracing of one another's scars... Xafra was far from a fumbling virgin, but being with Devlin Nightcrest had been a definitive experience. He was just so... present in the moment. All they had to do was close their eyes and they could feel it, taste it, hear it, all over again. Xafra knew that one night would live on in their memory long after the surprising human was nothing but dust in the wind, and wasn't that a tragedy. A spirit like that deserved more than a few score years or so. They were hardly one to rail against the gods, but to limit that fire to a human lifetime... well it was just not right.

Still, Xafra hadn't expected anything more than a night from Devlin Nightcrest. He was famous, handsome, wealthy, with an air of command about him, gentled by a genuine sense of humour and compassion. Literally anyone, male or female, would be willing to throw themselves at his feet and beg for a night. Xafra was content with what they had gotten, and had hoped that maybe they could possibly be friends, much like they had been with their squad mates... back before... They squelched that memory harshly, refusing to let darkness taint their memories. Just like they cleanly separated Devlin's morning after behaviour from the memories of the night before. He clearly regretted what had happened between them, and that cut through Xafra's sense of self worth more harshly than they had anticipated. Then later, at the Bilare Keep, he'd thought they had bragged about passing time with him, as if they were the type too... that had hurt the worst.

It wasn't the first time Xafra had been burned by a playmate, though. Taking their cue from Devlin's obvious disgust, they stepped back into the roll they were best at. Soldier. Shield. Cannon fodder. They were another body on the field, the type that took hits to let more important people get to the important stuff. They'd obviously overreached with the kiss, and the other... Xafra pressed their lips together tightly. Devlin could regret it all he wanted, they would not. Could not. Especially later, as they watched Devlin face down Auspicia Dran in her own den of iniquity, despite having no access to his weapons or power. His strength had emboldened Xafra, and they had to fight not to laugh at the scarred woman as she tried to undermine Devlin's authority. Clearly her biscuit wasn't quite done in the middle, thinking anything she said would carry weight. Devlin stayed his usual self, his charm and cajoling aimed at protecting everyone else. Xafra just... couldn't keep their mouth shut. Being a paladin didn't often effect their daily life, but every once in awhile Ehlonna's call reared it's head and demanded they square their shoulders and hold their place.

Dying hadn't felt like what they expected. It didn't hurt, didn't really register, though coming back to life was harder. One minute they were in a quiet forest, the next, laying on the ground, their Heroes nearby, expressions tense and concerned. How the others had gotten them back up with that evil scarred bitch still nearby was a mystery, but then again, they were the Heroes of Virese. Somehow they got out without all the bits and bobs Auspicia had wanted to leash them with, though they did get themselves some unpleasant company. 

Xafra tried to be polite. To fulfill their duty and not rustle the underbrush. It was hard though, particularly with Dran's creepy minions always watching. It was easier to sit aside, to sleep separate, and to keep their distance. Devlin tried to flirt and mingle with their guards, for that was clearly what they were, but Xafra didn't have that level of charm. Not here, not where everything was tense. They hadn't had much time to talk to the heroes, but the innate goodness of their companions shone clearly in their every decision. His attempts at diplomacy showed that Devlin clearly was the most practical of the group, so Xafra tugged up their big elf panties and took him aside, reminding him that they were disposable. Just a soldier. No need to be noble, they weren't some civilian needing saving, nor were they valuable like the heroes. Worried that someone would try to protect them, Xafra gave Devlin permission to sacrifice them to the greater good, practically asked him to.

His reaction... they had been prepared for the lecture, but the _kiss_ , the exasperated and affectionate 'you asshole'... that had been more than they could handle. For a good minute their brain felt like lightning had buzzed through it, leaving everything sparking and needy. They'd had to feel the dampness on their lips to reassure themself that it had actually happened. Xafra had thought Devlin hated them for tricking his drunk butt into bed... Quelling the thrill and the hope that had shot through them was the hardest thing they'd ever done. Battle was coming, though, and they squared their shoulders, more determined than ever to get Devlin Nightcrest out of this situation in one piece.

The fight... things happened so fast. The chamber with the Zen, the appearance of the Eladrin. Xafra hadn't thought, they just knew that creepy doll couldn't be allowed near the summer guardian. It was like their feet had moved of their own volition, putting Xafra between Annebelle and the Eladrin, between the Heroes of Virese and the Zen Covenant. Regret thrummed through them like rustling leaves... but then Devlin was beside them, and it was like their heart was a cacophony of evening birds taking wing. He stood beside them. In the face of danger. At the risk of ruining an alliance that was already fraught with distrust. Annebelle would try to kill Devlin, Xafra knew it deep in their bones. The only thing to be done was to destroy that bitch first, and praying to Ehlonna they attempted just that. Holy light infused their blows, comforting them, guiding them. Ehlonna approved, and that warmed their chilled heart. 

Afterwards they were shocky. Being the vessel of a goddess, even a gentle one, wasn't easy. The heroes all reached out, each in their own way, but Xafra knew they didn't deserve the praise. The kill was the dragon's, the damage a gift of their goddess. They were merely the weapon the goddess wielded here in Virese. One of many. Nothing special. Devlin distracted them with tales of their exploits, but all they wanted was a drink to settle their frazzled nerves. The fight had been over so fast they could barely breathe, could barely believe they weren't still fighting. They wanted ... they wanted what they couldn't have. Didn't deserve. Instead they wanted to find drink and respite in oblivion, but Miss Adara wouldn't let them leave the terrifying magic mansion. Trapped. Tense. They had too much energy, like beetles buzzing under their skin. They'd felt like that after the war, when everything had gone wrong. There was no one to hold them this time, though. No comforting embrace of alcoholic stupor. Just them and their own foolish brain.


End file.
